


At.  All.  Times.

by Tomstinkerbell



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: D/s, Erotica, F/M, Hair Brushing, NSFW, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Spanking, Submissive Tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:51:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4994446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomstinkerbell/pseuds/Tomstinkerbell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Submissive Tom.</p>
<p>Do you really need more of a description?</p>
            </blockquote>





	At.  All.  Times.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:
> 
> Written really fast and not well edited.
> 
> Not Safe for Work!
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

If I had a naked Tom Hiddleston standing in front of me, that I knew wanted to fuck me (and, of course, the reciprocal is understood), sure, yeah, I'd go for the obvious - kissing the ever loving fuck out of those expressive lips of his, loving on his pecs and arms and hands (my mouth - as well as other, more southern, spots - is watering as I write these words), and, of course I want to feel the ridges and dips of his Adonis Belt.

And who could possibly forget his cock . . .

But I would hope that I wouldn't be that shallow a lover, but also that I would do my best to concentrate on him, especially the first time we were together.

And before you think I'm some kind of Girl Scout, there's a method to my madness: if I take the lead, if I guide us from the start, I have all the power and control. And if he surrenders to me, then I'll have learned a lot of information about him already.

Same thing if he resists or tries to wrest control away from me.

Either way it ends up, I'm going to learn a shitload of very intimate stuff about this man, very quickly.

And I hope I would retain enough self-control to not just skim his surfaces, but to venture down those less well travelled roads - his collar bones . . . the insides of his wrists and the centers of his palms . . . my fingers delving into his hair, close to the scalp to yank it back suddenly and catch his gasp of surprise in my mouth before taking his . . . the backs of each knee, with a playful nip of his feet at each arch and heel while massaging tantalizingly everywhere . . .

I would lead him into my bedroom and ask him to lie face down and spread eagled. I would expect him to give me a bit of a questioning look, and I'll return it with an eyebrow up. If he doesn't want to do this, I can hardly force him to. He either wants to submit to me, or he doesn't.

But I am deliberately not going to give him any indication as to where this encounter was going if he refuses.

Whether or not I would switch.

After a long moment, he complies, doing exactly what I'd asked of him.

Meticulous and detail oriented even in the bedroom. Gotta admire the Type A's that take it all the way to the boudoir, I grin to myself.

It was only a few steps to lean down near his head and catch his eye. "I don't go much for fancy safe words. If you want me to stop, then tell me to stop. I will do so immediately and I will back the fuck away from you until you tell me you want me near you again. I don't know why I feel it, but I would bet next year's salary that you've done this before - probably switching as desired - with both men and women."

I pause, but he says nothing, his face a pleasant blank.

Okay, fine. Be that way.

"What's your pain tolerance level?"

He shrugs. "Medium to high."

"Anything squick you I should know about?"

"Nothing illegal. I like things safe, sane and you already have my consent. No body fluids, and no armpits."

I like a man who knew what he wants. The armpit thing kind of threw me, but it wasn't one of my kinks, so no problem.

"Very good, Tom. I'm impressed."

He looked kind of insufferably pleased with himself for having pleased me.

That would have to stop.

I walk around the bed. "Spread your legs further. Frog leg them so I can see the backs of your cock and balls."

Damn, the man was agile! He was in position almost before I finished speaking!

"Arms above your head at all times, palms clasped together, fingers interlaced. At. All. Times."

I climb onto the bed quickly, and grab his junk in my hand. I note, of course, that it overflowing my small hand first and foremost. I need both hands, one mid-staff and the other cupping balls that were already high and tight - but still impressive.

I proceed to slicken my hands using a reserve I have of lube hidden near the bed, then they were back in place, only this time they weren't just holding, they were moving all over him. I thought he was erect when I got to him, but I was wrong.

So much so that I can't suppress a soulful groan, and he chuckles softly. "That was quite the telling groan."

My hands stop cold dead, and I lean over to his ripe peach butt and bite him - relatively hard.

I think - afterwards, of course - that I should have asked him if he was doing any nude scenes in the next week or so, but it was too late now.

He was going to be wearing a perfect impression of the expensive dental work my parents had worked and slaved to afford for me when I was in school for a while.

I rather like that thought overmuch, frankly, almost as much as his surprised - indignant - yelp.

"Ooh," I coo sympathetically. "That musta hurt!"

But I figure I could probably convince him that it wasn't quite that bad relatively easily, and I set my mouth dead center on his taint and begin to eat greedily in both directions.

He comes in my mouth the second after I fit my red lips over the equally red tip of his cock, swallowing every single droplet down as he pants heavily over me. Slipping out from beneath him, I let my eyes flick up.

His hands were no longer above his head.

Instead, his still clasped together hands are beneath his face, as if he's praying to someone, the breath still exploding irregularly out of him.

"Tom, Tom, Tom," my voice drips with patently false empathy. "When are you going to learn to follow directions?"

I see his body freeze, see him reach for control and gather it about him like winter fuel, and then I watch the realization dawn on him.

That he's in trouble.

Somehow I think he probably hasn't had that realization very often in his life. He's such a genuinely nice guy, and gorgeous to boot, I'd be willing to bet those he might have sinned against were probably only too ready to forgive him, especially if they were female.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," he chants.

"Shut up."

Silence reigns.

"What was it that you did wrong, Tom?"

I see him close his eyes on a long, remorseful sigh. "I moved my arms, Ma'am."

"And where should they be, Tom, no matter what I do to you?"

"Above my head, palms clasped together, fingers interlaced."

"Say it with me, Tom."

And we did, in unison.

"At. All. Times."

"Not just now and then, not just when it's easy for you to do so, but always, unless you're told differently." I stand to one side of the bed.

"I'm so sorry, Tom, but I have to send you to get my chair - and my hairbrush - from my vanity. I want you to put the chair in the middle of the room, then come stand beside me and give me the brush."

He scrambles off the bed immediately, and although he's already cum, I can see his full erection bobbing uncomfortably with his every movement.

He accomplishes his tasks in record time, and if he wasn't going to be punished, I might praise him, but I didn't want to give him mixed signals.

Now that engorged cock is thrusting itself up right in front of me, in profile.

I stand, slap its impudence smartly, taking the brush he's holding out to me and claiming my seat. "Tom, come here and lay yourself over my lap. You were very naughty moving your hands, and you're going to be thoroughly hand spanked and hair brushed."

He comes to stand beside me quickly enough, but seems quite reluctant to actually put himself over my lap.

"Now, Thomas," I warn.

Perhaps he hesitates because he worries he'll hurt me or something, but it doesn't matter. His role in this scenario is not to think - another thing I think he isn't used to doing.

But he finally does it, and, with his toes and fingertips taking some of his weight, he isn't at all too heavy, either.

"That's an extra twenty with the brush for your hesitation, I'm afraid, Tom."

"Yes, Ma'am," he grunts.

"Let us begin." 

I raise the brush - the harsher of the two implements well into the air and send it fiercely down on the same cheek that already bore a token of my affection fit to singe the flesh beneath the wood.

Dear God, I love the sound of his scream!


End file.
